


Four Times Gwen Wasn't Psychic (And One Time She Was)

by TeamGwenee



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Fluff, Funny, Hurt & Comfort, M/M, Team as Family, friendship fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-17
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-26 04:40:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30100440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeamGwenee/pseuds/TeamGwenee
Summary: When Jack first raises the possibility of their new recruit being psychic, Owen takes it upon himself; as Torchwood's resident scientist, to investigate.
Relationships: Gwen Cooper & Owen Harper, Hinted Owen Harper/Toshiko Sato, Jack Harkness/Ianto Jones
Comments: 16
Kudos: 29





	Four Times Gwen Wasn't Psychic (And One Time She Was)

Four out of five Torchwood agents sat gathered around the conference room table, Jack at the head.

“Right then,” Jack began briskly. “Tomorrow, we welcome our new colleague onto the team-”

“So what’s this then?” Owen cut in brusquely, “A _be nice to New Girl or else_ lecture?”

Jack shot Owen a look, shutting him up. The valiant Captain turned to the projector on the wall, the eyes of his team following him. “So, as part of her background checks, Toshiko and I were running facial recognition searches and her DNA samples through our systems, to see if she or any of her family members pop up in our records. If Torchwood has had dealings with her before, we need to know.”

“And had we?” Ianto asked.

Jack responded by pulling up a picture of a screen, an old black and white photo, cut from a newspaper article regarding the funeral of an Archbishop’s nephew.

_“Shit,”_ Owen muttered, as Jack zoomed in on the image of a young maid, meekly standing in the background. 

“How…?” Ianto asked. “Is that her great, great grandmother or something?”  
  


Toshiko shook her head. “Gwyneth Morgan died when she was nineteen, a maid in the local undertaker’s house, which Torchwood was monitoring due to high levels of Rift Activity on the recorded premises. She left no family, no descendants.”

“Spatial Genetic Multiplicity,” Jack declared, brandishing a hand towards the picture.

“What now please?” Owen asked, forehead furrowed.

“A rare occurrence, it only happens when someone’s bloodline has heavily mingled with the Rift,” Jack explained. “The Coopers go back to the 1800s. Sometimes the Rift picks up physical traits and throws them back out again, a little bit like an echo.”

“Ok,” Owen said with a shrug. “A little creepy, a story to share at dinner parties, but no big whoop.”

“If only it were so simple,” Jack corrected. “Torchwood was not just monitoring the Undertaker’s, it was monitoring Gwyneth. Rumours had been spreading about a maid with ‘the sight,’ as it was known back then. Growing up on the Rift gave Gwyneth the ability to see into other minds, other worlds.”

“And you think Gwen might be able to as well?” Ianto asked, catching on.

“It’s a possibility,” Tosh confirmed.

“Would be bloody useful if it’s true,” Owen noted.

“And dangerous,” Tosh added. 

“These wouldn’t be clear readings, just flashes of things she doesn’t understand,” Jack explained. “So, I want you all to be on watch out. If Gwen shows any sign of knowing something she shouldn’t, give me a heads up and we will know to start monitoring closely. Other than that, just carry on as normal. Understand?”

The team gave their affirmations, chairs scraping back as they stood to return to their desks. Owen caught sight of Ianto, looking a little pale. He smirked, wondering what Ianto might have hidden away that he wouldn’t want PC Cooper finding out. Judging by the way Ianto watched Jack swish from the room, Owen had an idea or two. 

#

  
  


As a sciencey man of science who did science things, the notion that his new co-worker had the potential to be clairvoyant struck at Owen’s intellectually curious chord. 

He began to devise a series of tests, to see if he could trigger PC Cooper’s potential psychic powers.

Owen carefully carried the alien device he had collected from the archives while Ianto was off somewhere, doing Ianto things, (probably buying ties or doodling Captain Jack Harkness-Jones in his notebook). The device was a chrome sphere, with random grooves all over. It had been declared non-dangerous, but touch sensitive and thus Owen carried it on a tray. Other than that, Owen had no idea what it did. But perhaps the Newbie would have a clue. What better way to discover if the Rift had granted her clairvoyance than by giving her something from the Rift to investigate? Perhaps handling something with residual Rift energy would make something click inside that pretty little head of hers.

“Oy, Freckles!” Owen hollered over to Gwen’s desk. “Come take a looksey at this.”

Gwen’s curiosity overcame her resentment at being called ‘Freckles’, and she came over to investigate the silver sphere on Owen’s desk.

“What is it?” she asked, tilting her head to the side.

Owen proffered it towards her. “No idea,” he said smoothly. “Safe though, give it a shake.”

In the hopes of getting the strongest potential reaction from Gwen, Owen didn’t give her gloves. 

The results from Owen’s first test came back as hilarious, but inconclusive. 

Sadly, the device activated before Gwen could get any psychic readings on the thing. Fortunately, it turned her skin a really rather glorious shade of bright, electric blue. Gwen’s shrieking alerted the rest of the team, who all came running.

Jack managed to hold himself together long enough to give Owen triple Weevil duty, before ducking behind a desk and spluttering. It was a shame that for all Jack could see the humour in the situation, he didn’t accept Owen’s explanation that it was ‘all for science’!

  
  


#

“So, let me guess?” Jack began, looking distinctly unimpressed behind his desk, fingers drumming against the polished wood. “This was ‘for science’ too?”

Owen shrugged. 

“Rift energy has been high lately. If the Rift has bestowed our dear Ms Cooper with psychic powers, I thought they might be more potent today. And if Gwen could develop the ability to discover the vibe inside a room before entering, it would give us a real advantage in the field,” Owen explained calmly. 

Jack raised an eyebrow. “So you saw Ianto enter my office and pull down the blinds, and decided to test this hypothesis by sending Gwen in to check on us?” 

“Exactly.” Owen saw the look on Jack’s face. “Oh come on Jack! Don’t tell me you’re actually getting prudish now. And if Tea Boy is feeling sore about giving Gwen a peep show, maybe he shouldn’t be getting handsy during office hours.”

“What goes on between Ianto and me is none of your business,” Jack said huffily, “And as for Gwen, I can assure you that she showed no sign of mind reading powers in that room.”

“No?” Owen asked, noting the pout tugging at Jack’s bottom lip.

“No,” Jack confirmed. “If she did, maybe she wouldn’t have thought we were joking when we asked her to join in. Ianto was very insulted. He got out the spare handcuffs and everything.” 

#

Toshiko was never late. Gwen was, sometimes. Even Ianto occasionally. Owen more often than not.

Two hours late, three hours late, and still no sign of her. Yeah, that was bad.

Gwen and Owen carefully combed Tosh’s flat, trying to figure out what had happened to their vanished colleague. Owen took a deep breath, even as his heart was gripped in the hard, iron grasp of dread. From the corner of his eye, he could see the pinch to Gwen’s mouth and the tautness of her shoulders. 

If there was ever a time for Gwen to reveal herself as psychic, it was now.

Owen grabbed a silk scarf that had been dropped by the door, and shoved it towards Gwen.

“Take it!” he barked.

“What?” Gwen asked, forehead furrowing in confusion.

“Take it,” he repeated, “Try and find some trace of her.”

“I’m not a sniffer dog, Owen!” Gwen snapped, fear and worry straining her nerves.

Owen flung the scarf in Gwen’s face, and her hand reached out to snatch it from the air. She opened her mouth, then shut it. A line appeared between her eyes, as she inspected the fabric closer.

For a single moment, Owen thought that his Hail Mary had proved fruitful, when Gwen held the cloth back for him to inspect.

Now Owen could see what Gwen saw. Fresh blood, bright yellow and slightly acidic to smell.

“Ribnamax blood,” Gwen deduced, naming the stray aliens that had fallen through the Rift last week. Humanoid, non-aggressive, the team had helped to adjust to their new Earth-bound life. Clearly, something had gone wrong.

“One of them must have gone rogue,” Owen muttered, all thoughts of extrasensory abilities forgotten in light of the yellow blood. 

“Or was attacked,” Gwen suggested. She switched on her comms. “Jack,” she said briskly, “We’ve got a lead.” 

#

Bog standard space debris. Long, oblong shaped. Bright gold in colour and one end rounded off in a dome. Two spherical diamonds graced the opposite end. All readings pointed to it being safe to touch. 

“Hey Gwen?” Owen called, face crumpling into a boyish grin as he waved it in front of her face, “Betcha can’t guess what I’m thinking.”

She could, actually. But then, one didn’t need to be psychic to see what was going on inside Owen’s depraved head. 

#

They were just making their move when Owen heard Gwen gasp, and saw her clutch her forehead. Her arm shot out and she grabbed Owen’s wrist.

“Put on a bullet vest,” she hissed, nails burying deep into the thin white skin.

“Gwen, not now,” Owen hissed, trying to tug himself free “Martha is in trouble!” Gwen only held on tighter, drawing bright beads of blood.

“Owen, I’m serious, put on a bullet proof vest,” Gwen repeated, her voice hoarse and eyes bright and fevered. 

“We never bother with vests,” Owen pointed out, as the team paused to see what was causing the hold-up.

“Well, we should,” Gwen snapped. “Especially you, especially now.”

Owen wrenched his hand free, making to move away, before he remembered a meeting, and the face of a long dead parlour maid. Something uneasy churned inside his stomach.

“Owen, _please_ ,” Gwen begged, her freckled skin grey and clammy. 

“Fine,” Owen grunted, squeezing her shoulder. “Because it’s you.”

Although he didn’t admit it, Owen was extra on his guard that mission, as were the rest of the team. None of them said a thing, but it was like their sense of danger had been cued to eleven. And when they managed to take down the Pharm with barely an incident, and Gwen dropped her head onto Owen’s shoulder and wept, all the way back to the Hub, Owen rather felt like he had just dodged a bullet there. 


End file.
